


After the Heart Falls

by Alice in Stonyland (Raine_Wynd)



Series: Lost Chance Trilogy [2]
Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Deathfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-08
Updated: 2000-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-02 08:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Alice%20in%20Stonyland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened in Fortitude Pass?</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Heart Falls

**Author's Note:**

> After writing Too Late for Dreams, I received an e-mail from someone asking me if I'd do a sequel where Ray is alive. At the time, I said no, I wouldn't, but the idea that I'd write something that fleshed out Too Late for Dreams more wouldn't stop playing in my head. This is the result. A part of this appeared as "Heat" and was previously posted to the RedSuitsYou mailing list.
> 
> Thanks to Debbie Hann for the partial beta. This is a death story, and may make more sense if you read Too Late for Dreams first. This version differs from the one posted to RSY on 3/8/00.

The cellular phone hooked to her belt vibrated against her waist, signaling an incoming call,  so Jennifer East snagged it from its resting place with the quick efficiency of familiarity. She was quietly grateful that she'd just finished shopping, and now was in the midst of loading her groceries into the trunk of her 1977 black Firebird Trans Am. She'd hoped that she could get her shopping finished before something came up. As a cop, she was too well aware that she was never really off duty; an informant could call anytime or the department could have a sudden emergency that required her assistance.

"East here," she answered, tucking a wayward strand of brunette hair back over her ear, and then trapping the phone against her shoulder as she set another bag of groceries into the trunk of the sportscar.

"Jen, help," the voice of her partner said shakily.

Groceries were instantly forgotten. Slamming the trunk shut, she quickly climbed into the driver's seat of her car and hoped she'd gotten everything she'd purchased into the trunk. "Ray, where are you?"

"Near my... place. Shot," Ray told her laboriously. Then with a sudden burst of strength, he added, "Think it went through the vest."

"Okay. I'll be there soon. Hang on, okay? I'm going to hang up and call an ambulance."

"'S'okay... it's better this way." A raspy chuckle followed. "Hate hospitals."

"Ray, I know you hate them, but damn it—"

The clatter of a phone being dropped resounded in her ear, and she swore even as she slammed the sports car into gear and slapped on her police warning light and siren. She was going to be too late, and some perverse voice in her brain mockingly reminded her she'd been too late for Ray from the day she'd met him.

* * *

_Seven months earlier_

"Fraser, the storm's building. Don't you think we gotta stop?" Ray asked his partner.

"We just have to make it through this pass, and there'll be a town on the other side, " Fraser assured him. "You'll get that hot shower and real bed you've been craving."

"Fraser, look at me. The dogs are refusing. Dief's even looking at us like we're outta our minds. We gotta stop, build shelter. Tell me you can see anything through this shit and we'll go."

Fraser looked at him, and what Ray saw there scared him. The Mountie's eyes were wild.

"No," Fraser admitted.

Ray breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, then. I'll start setting up stuff. You go get the dogs settled."

"No," Fraser said again.

"Fraser, I do not have time for this shit. You don't have time for this shit. I'm freezing my ass off here, I'm tired, we've just spent the last five days tracking some stupid hunter who forgot to tell his idiot wife he had their cellular phone and could call home,  it's snowing like I've never seen snow, and if we don't build an igloo or throw up a tent or something, we are going to die. What the fuck's wrong with you? You've been acting nuts ever since we've been headed this way."

"Not again."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Frase?" Ray demanded impatiently as he began hurriedly pulling supplies off the sled and started setting up camp.

"I am not going to stay here."

"Fine, you go get your ass frozen," Ray shot back, losing his patience.

"No."

"Well, make up your mind, Fraser."

Fraser didn't answer him. Ray sighed and proceeded to ignore him as he set up camp, the process hampered by the fact that Fraser hadn't moved to help him as Fraser normally would. Something about that stillness nagged Ray, but Ray had heard Fraser expound on the lessons of survival long enough to know that he had to set up their shelter and see to the dogs first. His work completed, Ray turned to get Fraser.

Fraser wasn't there.

At least, not the Fraser Ray had come to know.

No, the Fraser Ray knew never screamed obscenities at the top of his lungs, never railed at God about the fairness of life, never lost his calm faith in the goodness of people.

_Well, you knew he had to let it go sometime,_ Ray reminded himself, trying to shove the fear that had crawled up his spine and settled like a lead weight in his stomach. He took a deep breath and tried to get Fraser's attention. "Hey, Fraser, life sucks, but you and I need to get into this tent like yesterday, before life really sucks and we're dead."

Fraser didn't hear him, but continued to rant.

"Fraser, look, man, you're scaring me here. Yeah, okay, so Vecchio shoulda told you about his undercover assignment, and maybe he shoulda tried to warn you he was going to be in town, but you can't— " Ray winced as Fraser cut him off with a particularly vivid expletive. "Okay, so maybe you can hold it against him, but now's not the time for you to be losing it, okay? I need you — I mean, I need your help now. We need to get out of this cold and batten down the hatches or whatever it is you do in a snowstorm outta hell."

Fraser looked at him. "Tell me why I should care."

"Fraser—" Ray fisted his hands and resisted the urge to smack his friend with the barest of control, remembering his vow never to hit Fraser again. "Don't ask me that. Don't do this to me, to us, now."

"I can't do this. I've had enough—"

Ray couldn't stand it anymore. There was only one other way he knew to shut someone up, and hoped it worked as well on Fraser as it had on Stella.  Roughly, he grabbed Fraser and kissed him, shocking him into silence. Not giving the Mountie a chance to think about it, Ray shoved him into the tent, already half-buried by the snow, and zipped it closed.

Fraser stared at him as the silence filled the tent. Several minutes ticked by, and Ray thought for sure he'd crossed the line. Kissing Fraser was something he'd dreamed about, but not under these circumstances, and Ray wasn't entirely certain of the outcome.

Nervously, Ray stammered, "Look, you wouldn't shut up and get in, so—"

Suddenly, Fraser grabbed him. With a grunt, Ray landed on top of the other man, and had time enough to catch his breath before it was stolen from him in a kiss.

This was crazy, insane. Maybe he was dreaming, maybe this was all one wild surreal trip into the Twilight Zone, but he was going with the flow. Ray couldn't stop it now if he could, if he'd even wanted to, and God only knew how much he'd wanted Fraser. He hadn't dared hope that the desire would be returned, but Ray wasn't going to protest this turn of events. If there was one thing he'd come to know about Fraser, there was no stopping a determined Mountie. Ray knew he wasn't about to refuse this. He'd wanted it too long, dreamed about it and called himself an idiot for it far too many times.

Whatever impulse had driven Fraser to this point, Ray was going to question him about it later. _Much_ later. He wasn't entirely capable of coherent thought at this point. Clothes became hindrances to the heat that had infused them both, and were dealt with swiftly. The snowstorm raged outside the tent, but all Ray could think of was the storm of passion inside of him, thundering with every heated caress. Every fantasy he'd ever had about Fraser was coming true in this moment, and he didn't want it to stop.

He moaned, helpless against the onslaught of Fraser's mouth, his tongue on his body. Ray forgot everything but the slick warmth of Fraser's mouth on his cock, the maddening flick of Fraser's tongue across the sensitive head. Fraser's fingers pressed a spot just below his balls that Ray never knew meant intense pleasure on top of already searing ecstasy, and Ray nearly screamed in pleasure. He was begging shamelessly for Fraser to take him, mindless of the way it sounded, even as Ray's hands reached for Fraser.

Just when he didn't think he could stand any more, Fraser stopped and lifted his mouth from Ray's cock.

"What are you doing?" The question came out breathless, needy. "Don't stop... I was so close... "

Fraser smiled, then slid up Ray's body, and took him in. It should've been awkward that way, should've been a hundred other things that it wasn't, and all Ray could think of was something incoherent and breathless. There was no pain, only pleasure, as he thrust upwards into Fraser.

Heat. He was burning with it, couldn't get enough of it as he was surrounded by it. God, had he ever known fire like this before? He couldn't remember, didn't want to think too deeply as he fought to maintain some control. He didn't want to let go, not yet. The warmth beckoned, inviting him to take that last stroke into the pit of the fire, to be wholly consumed. He fought to breathe as he heard Fraser's moans, more kindling on the fire. Fraser rocked against him, and Ray couldn't help but thrust upward in response.

He opened his eyes and stared into his lover's face, needing suddenly to see the passion he was feeling. The fire was reflected in Fraser's eyes. He groaned, and felt his release shoot through him like a wall of flame reaching flashpoint. He wasn't cold anymore, not by a long shot, and Ray didn't think he'd ever be again.

The storm buried them in the snow, but the two men didn't notice, too caught up in the raw pleasure of each other. When the storm broke, four days had passed, and an irrevocable line had been crossed.

* * *

The bar looked like a hundred others Ray had ever been in, with its neon signs, scarred tables, and seen-it-all wait staff. For the moment, he didn't care. It was enough that the owner had been willing to hire him, and that the tips were good. He knew he could have easily borrowed the money to get back to Chicago, but he wasn't quite ready to leave Canada just yet. There was still a part of him that hoped Fraser would change his mind and maybe track him down.

There had been no awkward good-byes. Ray had made certain of that. He told Fraser he was thinking of heading east, of checking out Toronto, and Fraser had regretfully informed him that if Ray did go in that direction, Fraser would not be able to accompany him as the extended leave he'd taken was now completely used up, and duty called. Ray had shrugged easily, aware from their numerous discussions about the subject that, as grateful as the RCMP had been for his help in several cases, they weren't going to offer him a job, and certainly not one as Fraser's partner.

Ray hadn't spoken to Fraser in two months. Though the Chicago cop knew exactly where Fraser was, he tried not to think of the Mountie. The hurt ran too deep for words, and it had taken every ounce of skill Ray possessed to pick their friendship back up after a snowstorm had trapped them in Fortitude Pass. It was now going on twelve weeks since that fateful storm, and on the outside, Ray looked and acted normal.

No one knew that inside, Ray's heart wasn't in what he was doing. If he stopped to think about it, which was more often than he cared to admit, he kept returning to the same conclusion: _I should've never kissed him, even if it was to shut him up._ No one heard the silent litany or the growing depression and increasing eradication of self-esteem that accompanied it.

Nor was any of this was revealed, as he flirted with customers, coaxing them to spend just a little more money than they'd intended on drinks and snacks, or made friends with his coworkers. No one believed he was nursing a heart that had been ripped to shreds with a single sentence. He'd fooled them all, but late at night, alone in the tiny studio apartment he'd rented, he could feel the weight of his heartbreak crushing him, demanding his surrender to the pain.

If Ray closed his eyes, he could see Fraser standing before him in the cabin they'd shared while Fraser had finalized the paperwork for returning to active RCMP duty. The hour had been late, and Ray had been waiting impatiently since they'd left Fortitude Pass to have the chance to love Fraser in a bed instead of in the middle of a blizzard. At first, Ray had thought that Fraser had simply been too tired since the storm to want the new intimacy initiated during that time. Then Ray began to suspect otherwise.

Fraser had been going on and on about some minor incident at the station, but Ray hadn't been really interested. The question that hammered at Ray's mind sprung out, a non sequitur in the midst of Fraser's soliloquy.

"How come you don't wanna do it with me anymore?"

Fraser went still and silent. Very carefully, he responded, "I don't believe it's necessary, Ray. What happened at Fortitude Pass was an aberration performed in the interest of keeping warm and active so that the blood in our bodies kept flowing—"

But Ray stopped listening at that point. All he really heard was "I don't believe it's necessary."

In Ray's mind, that translated to: "I don't want you."

In that instant, all the joy Ray had ever felt in Fraser's presence vanished, as if someone had pulled out the plug to the illumination feeding it. Ray mumbled something about Fraser's choice being okay, that he was relieved to know that they could go back to being just friends and no one would speak of what happened again, the usual garbage one says when one's heart is bleeding but isn't willing to show just how much. It didn't take long for Ray to begin planning on when to leave.

He'd just about convinced himself that he was over Fraser when Gabrielle, one of the other servers, invited Ray to join her in going to another bar that stayed open later than most. Not having anything better to do, Ray agreed. It was there he met Calvin.

Calvin looked like a dead ringer for Fraser. The personality was nothing like Fraser, nor was the voice, roughened by cigarette smoke and probably too much whiskey, but Ray hadn't cared. All he'd seen was the chance to exorcise some ghosts, and it hadn't taken long for them to make excuses to Gabrielle, then head over to Calvin's apartment.

In the moments after they'd both climaxed, Calvin had made noises about maybe seeing Ray again, while Ray made the usual noncommittal replies. Both of them knew it was barely a one-night stand, not when Ray wasn't staying the night. Ray never saw him again. At the time, Ray hadn't cared. The wound had been ripped anew, the scars peeled back for fresh examination, and Ray had cursed himself for being fool enough to believe that a one-night stand could cure him once and for all of his love for Fraser. Instead, Ray had ended up feeling guilty and even more heartbroken than he'd been. Determined to forget, Ray made the decision to leave Canada.

Within two months, Ray had enough saved up to move back to Chicago. A call to Lt. Welsh and some paperwork shuffling resulted in his reinstatement to the Chicago PD. Two weeks before he was due to move, it rained steadily, and Ray soon felt ill enough to warrant seeing a doctor. It was only at Gabrielle's insistence that he reluctantly did so. The doctor prescribed some medication, which only made him sicker than he was originally, and Ray tossed out the drugs in disgust. The doctor also ordered lab tests, since he didn't have a medical profile on Ray. Two days after Ray's visit with the doctor, he received the call that would change his life. To say that he was shocked would be an understatement, but he was outwardly calm. If Fraser had seen him, he would've known something was wrong, but he didn't, a fact for which Ray was eternally grateful.

Ray was going home, and if he was going to die anywhere, it wasn't going to be Canada. He didn't want to be anywhere near the open plains, the snowcapped mountains, the National Geographic-worthy panorama of sights, smells, and sounds he'd come to associate with Canada. Canada meant Fraser.

Fraser meant love.

Love meant heartbreak.

Heartbreak meant Canada.

No, Ray was going home.

And if home wasn't exactly home without his heart, Ray told himself it wouldn't be the first time he'd operated on autopilot. He'd had lots of practice with Stella, after all.

* * *

Jennifer East studied her new partner from across the expanse of their combined desks and wondered why he'd even bothered to show up for work. It was clear to her that he wasn't feeling well, but he was hiding it. He was already on his fourth cup of candy-sweetened coffee, and it was barely an hour into work. There were shadows under his eyes, and the angular face she'd come to recognize appeared even paler than usual.

"Late night, Ray?" she asked finally.

He smiled at her, that quick grin that meant absolutely nothing. "You know how it goes with us party animals," he teased her, his voice absolutely deadpan. "Gotta get more of that nightlife."

Jennifer snorted. Ever since she'd been partnered with him three weeks ago, she'd seen no evidence that Ray had any interest in partying. He was quiet, dedicated, and a good cop — the least likely person in Jennifer's mind to be having a wild night on the town. She'd heard through the grapevine that he'd been something of an unorthodox cop, that he'd been unofficially partnered with a Mountie, but in the short time she'd been partnered with Ray, she'd begun to wonder how much truth there was to what she'd been told. "You, and a party?" she retorted. "Yeah, right. Pull another one on the rookie."

He smiled, but the emotion barely reached his eyes. Not for the first time, Jennifer wondered why nothing really made him smile. "It's nothing," he assured her, and quickly changed the subject. "Come on, we'd better get cracking on the Hostine case before someone starts asking questions."

Jennifer accepted the change of subject, but she made a mental note to herself to keep an eye on her partner. She might be a rookie to the department, but she wasn't so green that she didn't know how important her partner's health was to her own well-being, and to the success of their partnership.

Ray caught the look in Jennifer's green eyes and sighed inwardly. _Better get this story over with,_ he thought. "Look, we gotta go confirm a couple statements on that case anyway, so why don't we drive over to this..." He glanced down at the case file and decided he was better off not trying to pronounce the witness's name. "Lady's house and get her talking, and I'll tell you what you've been dying to ask since you got partnered up with me."

Jennifer agreed. Forty-five minutes later, they were seated in a sparsely filled bar some distance from the station. After ordering coffee, Jennifer prompted, "You were going to tell me something?"

Ray took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah."

He didn't say anything more, and Jennifer waited patiently. From the look on his face, she could tell the words weren't coming easily. She began to reconsider her decision to pry.

The waitress delivered their coffee. Ray immediately dumped six packets of sugar into his cup, then stirred the coffee, but didn't drink.

"Look, it's really none of my business," Jennifer began apologetically. "You don't have to—"

"Yes, I do," he interrupted her, rubbing his forehead tiredly. He toyed with the spoon in his coffee a minute longer, then set the utensil aside. "I got to tell you, in case I get shot." He swallowed, then added, "I have AIDS."

Jennifer's breath caught in her throat. _I'm sorry_ didn't seem appropriate, so she took a drink of her coffee instead while she tried to figure out what to say. "How — how did it happen?"

Now Ray lounged back in his chair, obviously trying for a relaxed posture and failing miserably. "I loved the wrong guy. I mean, it was the right guy, but it was the wrong guy for the — oh, hell, I'd better start at the beginning."

He took a deep breath and exhaled it, then leaned forward and hunched his shoulders. "I was friends with Fraser for a long time — well, maybe a year's not a long time, but there were times I thought it was — before we went up to Canada. I'd have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to notice this guy. Short dark brown hair, gray eyes, 5'11", medium build, with one of those faces you think can't possibly be real because it's so perfect. I mean, he was just one of those guys _everyone_ notices 'cause he's that good looking, but I kinda got used to seeing how beautiful he was. Had to, or else everyone would notice how I felt about him, and I just never thought he'd go for it. I kept on hoping, though.

"He was RCMP, supposed to be the Canadian liaison to the department, but the way things were, he was the unofficial partner of the guy whose job I was covering. So it was only natural that Fraser and I solved a bunch of cases together." Ray shook his head, remembering, a half-smile on his face. "Seemed like he was always finding new and crazy ways to try and get me killed more than we were solving crimes. Fraser was one of them people who couldn't stop if someone needed help, or some wrong needed to be righted."

Ray was quiet a moment before he added, "I never thought I'd meet anybody like that. I mean, I'm a cop, I'm supposed to believe in justice, but sometimes...sometimes it doesn't pay to believe, you know?"

Jennifer nodded, thinking of how she'd seen enough injustice and how she'd become a cop because of it. She might be a rookie to the 27th, but she wasn't that naive.

"Fraser wasn't like that. Hell, some big crook had him beat up around Christmastime, and he still believed the guy had it in him to apologize, not only for beating Fraser up, but also for mouthing off to some kid in a restaurant. Used to drive me crazy, 'cause all I wanted to do was protect him and put him somewhere where he'd never get hurt, and at the same time, I'd love him even more for not letting all the ugly stuff we see get to him."

"Sounds like a really nice guy," Jennifer commented. It didn't seem likely that a guy like that existed, but she was willing to believe that Ray had known someone like that.

"'Nice' doesn't cover it." Ray finally took a drink of his coffee and grimaced at the taste. He set the cup down and proceeded to drum his fingers on the table.

"So what happened?" Jennifer prompted, reaching over to still Ray's hand when the noise became annoying. Ray glanced at her hand covering his, then up at her. She caught faint amusement in his eyes before he looked away and she removed her hand.

"One of the cases took us up to Canada, and to make a long story short, I nearly died up there. We got rescued, and I thought we were over as partners. I mean, it made sense to me: I'd go back to Chicago; he'd stay in Canada, 'cause he was the Mountie and that's where he belonged. Then he asked me if I'd stay with him. I didn't have much left for me back in Chicago with him gone and the guy who I was covering for no longer needing me to cover for him. I said hell, yes. Didn't have to think twice about it. I would've gone anywhere for Fraser. I thought —" Ray's voice wavered "— I thought he loved me."

Instinctively, Jennifer reached for her partner's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Things were goin' all right, and then we-" Ray closed his eyes as his voice hitched on a sob. "We ran into a snowstorm. I'd never seen anything like it. Fraser was angry, angry at the weather, angry with the world, I dunno what it was, but he was scaring me more than the storm. I thought we were goners then. He was supposed to be the expert, the one who knew everything, and I was — I was just this dumb Chicago cop in love."

"Sounds like you ran into a hell of lot more than a snowstorm," Jennifer observed quietly. "Ray."

He looked at the slender woman who sat across from him, clearly getting ready to tell her the rest.

"I don't need to know the rest. It's pretty clear Fraser broke your heart, and I can guess you went and did something you regret. God knows I've done some pretty stupid stuff when I was feeling low." She watched relief spread across Ray's face and nodded, satisfied. "Does Welsh know you're sick?"

Ray shook his head. "I don't want him to know. Right now, it's just being tired all the time. Nothing that'll affect me working. If it gets bad, I'll think of something."

"But procedures say —"

"Fuck procedures," Ray growled. "You say anything to anyone about what I just told you, and I'll deny everything."

Jennifer stared at him, reluctant to bend the rules. Something told her, though, that she'd be risking a lot more than just a reprimand if she went against her partner's wishes. "I don't like it," she told Ray at last.

He smiled grimly. "Welcome to my world." He paused. "Promise me you won't tell Fraser. Ever." His voice was suddenly, painfully urgent.

"Why not?"

"Because he'll go on the biggest Mountie guilt trip this side of the border and I can't stand just thinkin' about it. God only knows what'll happen if the whole crap about ghosts is true and I get stuck here forever because Fraser feels guilty about what happened to me. It's not his fault."

Sensing Ray meant every word, Jennifer didn't see any choice but to swear.

The weeks flew by quickly, so much so that Jennifer almost forgot what Ray had said. She took for granted that his energy wasn't as much as hers, and that, of the two of them, she would be the one doing the majority of the talking. It became a game of sorts between them to see if she could interest Ray in doing something with his free time, but it was soon clear that he preferred to be alone. The only other person at the station who could get past the isolationist attitude and make him smile, even briefly, was the civilian aide Francesca Vecchio, but even she wasn't always successful. In time, Jennifer, like everyone else, simply accepted that Ray Kowalski wasn't the outgoing man he'd once been, and fewer still noticed when the flu hit him harder than most. If he seemed paler and thinner when he came back to work, no one thought twice about it. Even Jennifer had been too caught up in trying to follow up on a lead on the phone to notice when Ray shuffled in, late as usual, and sank tiredly into the chair behind his desk.

It wasn't until Jennifer hung up that she realized how skeletal Ray looked. "Damn, Ray, you look awful," she exclaimed. "Shouldn't you be back in bed?"

He grinned at her tiredly. "Probably," he agreed. "Hate hospitals."

"Hospitals?! What the hell were you doing in —" Jennifer stopped short as she remembered why something like the flu was ten times more a threat to Ray than it was to her. "Oh."

He looked across the expanse of their desks and echoed, "Yeah, that 'oh.'"

"Is everything okay? I mean," Jennifer floundered, "I know it's not okay, but are you okay now, oh, that still doesn't sound right —"

"If I'm lucky," Ray intoned humorlessly, "I'll be here another six months."

"Oh, Ray."

He smiled faintly at her concern. "It's okay. You'll get a better partner when I'm gone, one who actually talks more than you do."

"I don't talk a lot!" Jennifer protested.

Ray's smile only broadened enigmatically, but as always, the feeling never reached his soul, never quite reached his eyes. He would always be cold, deep in the place that had once harbored his heart, as frigid as the winter that covered the Canadian landscape Fraser called home. Jennifer sensed it, and found herself wishing for the umpteenth time that somehow, she could warm up Ray. She wasn't holding her breath for that chance; he'd made it more than clear that no one could reach him.

One Saturday almost three months after she'd been assigned as Ray's partner, Jennifer stayed overnight at his apartment after spending most of the evening trying to uncover clues to their latest case. She woke to find him watching her with an oddly wistful expression in his eyes.

"What?" she asked as she stretched her arms towards the ceiling, half-closing her eyes at the pleasurable popping that ensued as a result. She brought her arms down and looked at her partner in time to see the unguarded masculine appreciation in his expression. She glanced down at the white T-shirt she'd worn to bed and realized how it must've looked stretched taut over her small bosom. She'd taken off her bra before going to sleep in Ray's bed at his insistence, not wanting the hooks to dig into her back as she'd slept. "Oh," she murmured, flushing slightly.

Then a thought occurred to her. "I thought you didn't like women," she blurted.

Ray chuckled, and for the first time Jennifer could remember, the emotion was reflected in his eyes. "Never said I didn't," he informed her, and the vibrancy in his tone and body language caught her attention.

She'd known he was attractive in a brooding, James Dean-type way, but to see a smidgen of real pleasure in his nonverbal expression... that made the knowledge devastating. For a moment, she was furious that someone had sucked that happiness out of him. For a moment, she forgot she was his partner, forgot that she was his friend, and wanted nothing more than to show him how joy could be. _After all_, some voice inside of her gleefully reminded her, _he wasn't adverse to women_. Combined with that voice, the urge to comfort Ray had the jolt of caffeine to Jennifer's system, and she had to fight to stop herself from speaking her mind without thinking.

"So?" she prompted carefully.

"You, ah, looked like my ex-wife, stretching like that." He shrugged awkwardly as the animation in his eyes disappeared, to be replaced by the sadness Jennifer had grown accustomed to seeing. "Watching you sleep... I kinda felt like I was watching... Fras-her again."

"I didn't mean to trigger bad memories," Jennifer apologized. She'd caught the slip, and understood he hadn't been thinking of his ex-wife when he'd been watching her sleep.

Ray gave a small shrug. "Shouldn't have been spying on you," he excused himself. "Should've just woke you up like you'd asked me to." He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "It's nine o'clock now, so I guess I wasn't too far off."

"It's okay," she assured him. "I don't really have anywhere to be today. I told you nine just in case I didn't wake myself up at eight-thirty."

That said, she tucked a wayward strand of brunette hair back over her ear and studied Ray. The forlorn expression on her partner's face as he straddled a chair he must've grabbed from his kitchen table made her heart ache. She took a deep breath and spoke his name.

He seemed startled, as if he'd been a million miles away. "Yeah?"

"You think I'm attractive?"

She didn't understand the shudder that rippled through him at her words. Softly, his voice rough with restrained emotion, he answered, "Very much so, yes. And no, I'm not just saying that to be saying that."

Jennifer pushed the covers aside, suddenly vividly aware she'd fallen asleep with just her bright blue bikini underwear and the T-shirt on. She knew she was crossing a line by the invitation she was about to extend, but she couldn't stand the pain she saw. She was tired of seeing her partner die by inches, tired of watching him withdraw more into himself with every day, tired of brushing up against the cloak of melancholy he wore. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, and if, for one shining moment in time, she could bring him joy, she would do anything. Her fingers reached for the hem of her shirt and started pull upwards.

Ray seemed to guess what she was about to do. "Don't," he growled fiercely. His hands snaked out and seized hers, stopping their upward movement. "Please, Jen, don't offer what I think you're about to offer. I can't take any more. Go find some other guy, someone who won't ki—" His voice broke as he roughly let her go. "Damn it, Jennifer, I'm your partner, for chrissake!"

She nodded in agreement, blinked back the sudden rush of tears at the rejection, and buried the temptation she'd had in a smile as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet. "I know, Ray. Give a girl a break, okay?" She reached for the jeans she'd tossed on the floor the night before and slipped them on. "Sheez," she teased, glad her voice was steady, "you'd think I was trying to make a pass at you or something. Like I didn't know I'd have a chance in hell."

She didn't look at him as she turned slightly away to zip up her jeans and fasten the button. She didn't dare reveal that she was very afraid she'd been about ready to give her heart away, had he taken up her offer. Even without that, she could feel the new intimacy humming between them, adding a new level of understanding to their relationship. Presentable again, she turned back in time to see the last of a relieved sigh ripple through Ray.

"Come on," she invited, "I'll buy breakfast." She sent him a casual, carefree smile, and breathed a quiet sigh when he went along with the pretense.

* * *

Jennifer took a deep breath and rubbed her temples tiredly, knowing that it had been the snippet of conversation she'd overheard on her way to her desk that had triggered the memory. It didn't seem like Ray had been dead almost a week, but she couldn't argue with the reality. Lt. Welsh had wanted her to take more time off, especially since the will had just been read the day before, and Ray had named her as his primary beneficiary, which meant she had a lot to do before the estate would be considered closed. She'd argued that the cases they had been investigating still needed closure, and Ray would've wanted her to finish what they'd started together. Glancing at her watch, she realized she'd gotten absolutely nowhere with that goal.

_At least it's lunchtime now, _she thought with relief. _Maybe after lunch I can concentrate better._

She had just grabbed her keys when a murmur started through the squad room. She paused in the midst of moving away from her desk, and searched the room for the source of the commotion. With a half-laugh, she realized she didn't have to look far. The red uniform was an unmistakable beacon headed straight for her.

Then the significance of that uniform, combined with the face of the man who now stood in front of her, registered. Her nerves tensed immediately. As casually as she could manage, she inquired, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I believe you can," came the reply. "I'm Sergeant Benton Fraser. I first came to Chicago on the—" Abruptly, he stopped. "It doesn't matter now. You are the Jennifer East who was partnered with Ray Kowalski?"

"Yes." Fraser's name had clicked in her brain, and protectiveness rose like a hastily drawn bridge. She watched as relief settled in Fraser's expression before adding, "But I don't have anything to say to you."

"Please." He looked at her with such entreaty, she felt powerless to refuse. "Just let me ask a few questions, and I'll be on my way."

She sighed, wondering if anyone had ever refused Fraser anything. "All right," she acquiesced. "I was headed for lunch. You can join me if you want."

It didn't take long for them to find a nearby sandwich shop. She'd seen the double-take Fraser had made when he'd seen her black Trans Am, and surmised he must have been thinking of Ray's GTO. For a brief moment, she wondered if he knew that Ray had bequeathed the GTO to Ray Vecchio. Then she shook herself. Some part of her didn't want to know if Fraser cared about such things. It would make him too easily understandable, too human.

"I was wondering," Fraser began once they were seated and Jennifer had purchased a six-inch Philly cheese steak sub and a medium Pepsi. "If you could tell me about Ray."

Carefully, she unwrapped the sub from the wax paper enclosing it, then took a bite. Chewing slowly, she tried to figure out just what to tell Fraser. "What do you want to know?" she asked, swallowing. "I assume you already know how Ray died."

Fraser nodded tightly. "Ray Vecchio told me. Were you with your partner at the time he was shot?"

The brunette leaned back against the booth, shifting position so that she lounged more comfortably. She opened her mouth to reiterate the official position, but something in Fraser's eyes compelled her not to lie. Restlessly, she shifted position again. "No," she stated quietly, and had to take a deep breath to submerge the grief that threatened to swallow her voice. "We were off-duty, least I was. I'm still not sure if he was; he had contacts in that gang that killed him. I didn't know he'd been shot until he called me." She closed her eyes, remembering the call. "He was dead, his body stripped, by the time I got to him. Someone else found him first, and the media got wind of it. I should've been there."

"I see," Fraser murmured.

"Do you?" Jennifer demanded sharply, opening her eyes. "Why the hell are you here, anyway?"

Fraser flinched at the ungentle reminder he was only with Jennifer at his insistence. "I received a letter for Ray a short time ago. "

"So?" She was being rude, she knew, but some instinct warned her she wasn't going to like whatever Fraser had to say.

"Ordinarily, I do not open other people's mail without their permission, but as I knew Ray had a tendency to ignore his mail until the last possible second and usually for quite some time afterwards, I'd gotten into the habit of opening it for him to ascertain its relevance. I was, however, alarmed to discover he'd been ill, especially when I read the report and realized what the diagnosis codes meant."

Jennifer stared at Fraser disbelievingly. "You a doctor in your spare time or something?"

"No. A case I was involved in led me to research common medical diagnosis codes. They're really quite self-explanatory, once you know what they signify."

"I see." Suddenly, Jennifer lost her appetite. She had a feeling she was aware of where this was going, and as she forced another bite of her sub down her throat for the sake of fueling her body, Fraser removed an envelope from a pocket in his uniform and set it on the table. Jennifer didn't need to look at it to be certain it was the results of Ray's initial tests for AIDS.

"Before I go on, I feel I must explain. I cared deeply about Ray. He was one of my best friends, and I feel I took advantage of that friendship, overstepped my bounds, and allowed myself to be lost in a moment of temporary insanity."

"The snowstorm."

Fraser blinked. "He told you about that?"

Jennifer almost cheered aloud at how uncomfortable Fraser appeared. She didn't understand the almost jealous need to protect Ray from someone who couldn't hurt him anymore, but she rode the urge anyway. "He was my partner," she stated simply, and watched the light of bittersweet understanding flare in Fraser's eyes. "He loved you more than life, and you broke his heart."

"I... I didn't know," Fraser admitted heavily. "He never said a word."

Jennifer snorted. "I'm not surprised. He didn't talk much to anyone."

Fraser looked puzzled. "That doesn't sound like Ray."

Jennifer shrugged. "That's the Ray I knew. I don't know what kind of guy he used to be around you, but he didn't talk much around anybody."

"Did anyone else know about his illness?"

Jennifer started to reply, then caught herself, remembering her promise to Ray. "I never said Ray was ill. He took a walk in the neighborhood, and someone decided they didn't want a cop around." Her tone dared Fraser to argue with her.

"But the results state Ray had—"

She picked up the envelope and methodically hand-shredded it. "What results? I just see a bunch of confetti there."

"Why are you protecting him still?" Fraser wondered. His eyes narrowed, and Jennifer felt the heat of that inspection. "Ray Vecchio refused to confirm my findings, and you do the same thing." He paused, as if coming to a realization. "You loved him," Fraser accused her.

Jennifer shrugged, unwilling to answer the truth, and began re-wrapping her sandwich. "Maybe," she offered, "Ray Vecchio and I are just honoring a friend's wishes." More kindly, she continued, "I don't know you, and maybe I never will, but Ray thought the world of you, and whatever happened between you and him changed him. I can't say that exactly endears you to me, because I'm the one who ended up with a guy who almost never smiled, rarely spoke to anyone, and was just waiting to die. Maybe if you'd gotten here sooner, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Then again," she gestured to the pile of confetti, "maybe it wouldn't have mattered, if you believe Ray was sick with something. Either way, it's too late now."

She watched her words register, and nodded in grim satisfaction. Taking a deep breath, she stood, and collected her belongings. At the last second, she remembered Fraser had ridden with her to the restaurant.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

"Home?" Fraser seemed caught off-guard by the suggestion. "No, that's perfectly all right. I'll — I think I'll walk."

She was tempted to insist, but the look on his face clearly told her he wanted to be alone. She left him there, knowing she wouldn't be able to soon forget the image of a man who'd just realized how much he'd lost. Somewhere, deep in her heart, she felt the echo of that mental picture reverberate, and had to blink rapidly to clear her suddenly cloudy vision.

_where the heart goes after it falls_  
_is a nearly bottomless gorge_  
_in which i have drowned a river of tears_  
_and still my soul grieves_  
_for the things it can never have_

_your love was the ice that froze me_  
_and kept the tears from flooding the joy_  
_and then turned the joy into darkness_  
_and i will never be the same_


End file.
